He Says Instead
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: The words dance on his tongue, demanding to be spoken. But Regulus would rather say anything, everything else.:: or five times that Regulus almost told Barty he loves him, and the one time, too late, that he finally did


_Written for the Ultimate Patronus Quest (Acromantula: Write an emotional and heartbreaking oneshot about your OTP), and the Five Plus One Competition._

* * *

I.

High in the air, the rest of the school far below him, he can still hear Barty's voice, so much louder than the rest, the lone cheer from Ravenclaw, as Regulus' fingers curl around the Snitch, securing Slytherin's victory. Regulus grins down at him, holding the Snitch proudly as if to say _look what I did, Barty!_

The adrenaline still floods his veins as he sets foot on solid ground again, the Snitch still raised high above his head. His Housemates swarm him, patting him on the back, and hurling compliments at him. For once, Regulus doesn't care about the glory.

He turns his head to the Ravenclaw section, but Barty has already been swallowed up in a sea of bodies.

"Victory party in the common room," Rabastan says, nudging him. "Come on! You're the main attraction!"

"I'll catch up," Regulus assures him, pulling himself away from his still chattering peers.

Rabastan starts to protest, but a wall of people separate them. Regulus groans. He doesn't care for their celebration. He has something more important.

…

"Thought you were never going to show up," Barty says.

Regulus shrugs, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket. He tucks it between his lips and lights it, inhaling deeply. "You know how people are," he laughs. "Do something amazing, and they can't get enough of you."

Barty snorts. "You seem unable to get enough of me," he says dryly. "Why is that? I'm not exactly amazing."

Regulus swallows dryly, the cigarette nearly falling from his lips. He plays it cool, quickly recovering himself. "Because I…"

He can't say it. He wants to more than anything. Something that's been developing for three years now. Something that he knows but doesn't fully understand. Something he is too afraid to speak.

"Because I can't survive without my biggest fan," he says instead with a weak smile, patting Barty on the back. "You keep me going, mate, and that is pretty damn amazing."

The answer doesn't quite seem to satisfy Barty, but he nods, offering Regulus a small smile. "I'll just keep cheering you on, then," he says softly.

"Please do."

II.

"Your father again?" Regulus asks as Barty shreds the letter and lets the scraps fall from the the top of the Astronomy Tower.

He watches as the bits of parchment dance gracefully to the ground below. Only Barty Sr can elicit that sort of anger from Barty.

"What's he done now?"

Barty groans. "The usual. 'That Regulus boy is bad news, Barty.' and 'You will ruin your future if you continue your friendship with him.'. That sort of thing," he answers.

Regulus nods. It's the same argument Barty has had with his father for the past five years. At first, he had been afraid that Barty would follow his father's advice and reject him. Instead, the two have only grown closer. Regulus wonders if it's because Barty values their friendship that much or because he hates his father more.

He reaches out, taking Barty by the hand. The words stick in his throat again. He has to tell him. He has to let him know. But he swallows them down, shaking his head. "Prying little git, isn't he?" he says instead. "I'm a marvelous influence!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Barty laughs.

"Oh, piss off. You just don't want to admit that I'm right, and you, a brilliant little Ravenclaw, are wrong."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate," Barty says with a roll of his eyes.

III.

They wear their Dark Marks together, mirror images that bind them. Barty has followed him so far down, has followed him so blindly without question. Regulus knows that he should be happy, but he feels as though there is a block of ice in his stomach.

"Why did you do it?" Regulus asks. "Not that I'm not happy you joined me, but it's a horrible risk, isn't it?"

"You're an idiot."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "That's hardly a good reason."

"No. I mean you're an idiot if you haven't figured it out yet," Barty groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I love you. I've loved you since we were twelve. I would follow you into Hell if I had to!"

It's the perfect time. He doesn't have to say it first. He can just return the sentiment, and everything will be okay.

But the words won't come. As they often do, they stay firmly in the back of his throat, refusing to fall. Barty has said it, and he's proven it. But doesn't seem fair for Regulus to say it now, not when he's lead Barty down a twisted path. Not when he's let Barty risk everything with no promise of anything in return.

"Good news," he says instead. "We might just end up going through hell together."

Barty's cheeks stain a dark pink. He looks away quickly.

Regulus hates himself a little. He's missed the opportunity to say it back.

He grips Barty by the hair and kisses him hard. It's the only thing he knows to do, the only way to make him understand.

Barty melts against him, like putty in his hands.

IV.

They fall into bed together, long after the sweat and the blood have been washed away. Regulus' stomach is in knots, and he's still shaken from what they've done, but Barty seems overcome with his own bloodlust.

"We're like gods!" Barty laughs, trailing his fingers down Regulus bare chest. "I've never felt so alive, Reg!"

Regulus grips his hands, pulling him on top. He should say it. That nagging voice in his head still refuses to let go.

"Barty…"

"Shh," he whispers, pressing a bruising kiss to Regulus' lips. "You're the one who said that talking ruins the mood, remember?"

"Barty…"

Another kiss. Somehow, Barty manages to swallow up the war in Regulus' head. Regulus closes his eyes and allows himself to melt.

…

"What were you trying to say?" Barty asks, peeling the sheet away from his sweat-slick body. "I sort of lost myself there."

Regulus shivers in spite of the room's warmth. If he tells Barty, will it make a difference? Barty has adapted so perfectly to this new life. He relishes the war in a way the Regulus cannot understand.

"It's nothing," he says instead, wide eyes fixed upon the ceiling. "We should get some rest."

V.

"What?"

Regulus thumps the filter of his cigarette against his nail, frowning. All he's done is watch Barty, fighting back those words again. "I didn't say anything," he says, confused.

"You don't have to. I can see it."

"What are you on about?" Regulus asks innocently.

"What is it, Regulus?" Barty demands, madness dancing in his eyes. "You're always looking at me like you've got something to say. So fucking say it!"

His palms collide with Regulus' chest, and Regulus stumbles, trying to regain his balance.

 _I love you. It's my fault that you're like this. I should have never brought you into this life. I'm so fucking sorry, and I love you._

"You're a monster," he says instead, spitting at Barty's feet. "You're a monster, and you disgust me."

"You're no better than your brother," Barty sneers, gesturing toward the door. "Get out. Get out!"

Regulus hesitates. Barty has become something that he barely recognizes. The sweet boy, so full of innocence and wonder is gone, and now a monster wears his skin.

A monster that Regulus has created.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and Barty doesn't understand the reason for his apology.

Barty grabs Regulus by the wrist. "Wait. Don't go," he says.

And Regulus knows that he should leave. He's destroyed Barty so completely, and he no desire to dance with the wreckage.

But Barty's voice is so sad, so pitiful, that Regulus melts.

VI.

Regulus wishes that he could just close his eyes and drift away beside Barty. He wishes he could bury his head in the sand and continue with the charade. But he can't. He has to destroy the locket or, most likely, die trying.

He sits up carefully, but Barty still wakes. "Reg?" he whispers, his voice heavy. "Where are you going?"

"Shh… Go back to sleep. I was just getting myself a glass of water."

Barty nods, his eyes closing. "Come back to me," he murmurs.

Tears sting his eyes. He wishes he could make that promise. He wishes that he could say that he'll be back and everything will be okay.

"I love you, Barty," he says instead, because he knows that it's the last chance he'll ever have.

Barty's lips quirk into a sleepy smile. "Love you, too," he says before wrapping his arms around Regulus' pillow, snuggling against it. "Love… you…"

Regulus swallows down the lump in his throat and climbs to his feet. His eyes linger on Barty for a moment more.

It's his fault that Barty is like this. He could have had such a bright future if he had never met Regulus.

"I love you," he whispers again. "I'm sorry. I'll fix everything, I swear."


End file.
